


Cherry Blossoms

by User_Shrix



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Blackwatch Hanzo Shimada, Blackwatch Jesse McCree, Blood and Injury, Character Death, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Flashbacks, Fluff and Angst, Genji Shimada Is Not Dead, Genji and Hanzo's Mother Is Still Alive, Hanzo Shimada has Issues, Hanzo Shimada has Prosthetic Legs, Hanzo and Genji's Mother's name is Mayu, Hanzo is like a baby, Kinda like Hanahaki, Loss of Limbs, Love/Hate, M/M, Noodle Dragons, Original Character(s), POV Alternating, Sakura (Cherry Blossoms), Slow Burn, Someone else has Genji's place in blackwatch, Young Jesse McCree/Young Hanzo Shimada, panphobia, some kidnapping
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-23
Updated: 2020-11-04
Packaged: 2021-03-07 16:55:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,441
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26621014
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/User_Shrix/pseuds/User_Shrix
Summary: There are many things in the world that are bitter.But, it's just what makes life sweeter.But Hanzo fails to see that, and it's gonna take a lot more than some talking to help him.Maybe, a certain cowboy can help?
Relationships: Genji Shimada/Tekhartha Zenyatta, Jesse McCree/Hanzo Shimada
Comments: 2
Kudos: 31





	1. A Flower's Friend

The moon shone over the castle, it was the dead of night. The multiple dark shades of color overlapped what is known to be the sky. Stars filtered across the canvas, turning the sky into the night we’ve known for decades. His mother would tell stories related to the stars above, and at the current moment, he could only wish for those times back.  
  


The metallic sound of the blade dropping onto the ground echoes through the cold night, the wind blew softly, arranging the sounds of the flowerbed to follow in its path, the floor was painted in the distinct color of a red rose. Only more discharged from it’s dispatcher, his skin had rows and rows of cuts. They bled down onto the ground he sat on, the wind blowing over the stinging that had tainted his legs. 

He sat against the wall, allowing moments of the past to crash over him. Hanzo stared out into the blank open sky, what kind of thoughts would he have now? What type of memories would now choose to plague him? Only time can tell. He titled his head backwards, his eyes catching onto the flowerbed that sat just next to him. The flowerbed was fastened onto the brown railing, out on this balcony it could catch all the sunlight it would ever need. The hydrangea had multiple shades of yellow, making it stand out under the moonlight’s rays. They blew softly, matching the wind’s pattern, Hanzo had only looked vacantly at them. 

He reached his arms out, prying his hands on the multiple hydrangea til the point where he had his own little bouquet. He clinged onto the bouquet close to his chest, the flowery petals brushing against the smooth silk of his _uwagi_. Hanzo slowly drew his legs in, enclosing the bouquet as if it was a baby being cradled. The blood that split from Hanzo’s newly gashes on his shins began to slow, the light that shone from the moon above had softened, the pattern of the wind had seemed to break rhythm. Hanzo’s eyes began to sting.

He sobbed softly, the event that had occurred began to repeat multiple times in his mind, the numerous slurs of being a disgrace, the shouts of dishonor, the constant reminder of never having permission to be happy. With the thought running wild through him, he is reminded of the things that occurred years before this incident

_“Brother! What do you think of the mochi?” Genji’s mouth was full of the now mushing mochigome, he ate with a huge grin plastered onto his small rounded face. Hanzo looked at him with a returning grin, he munched onto the mochi that they were given._

_Both Hanzo and Genji’s mother and father sat just next to them, discussing business related to the future of the clan. Genji placed a hand on his father, slightly shaking the man. Sojiro looked down onto his sparrow, who looked at him with a plea, “Father, I need to use the bathroom.”_

_For what may seem to be the only moment of their lifetime, the Shimada family were out in public, eating what is known to be a family dinner or what is considered a gift for the little sparrow. The Shimada heirs would never leave the castle grounds, they were born on it, and were bonded to stay on it. Mayu gave a soft chuckle._

_“Come on, I’ll take you.” Her voice was soft and gentle, Genji looked at his mother with sparkling eyes. Mayu began to shift, before she could fully stand up, Hanzo had cut it, “No sit, I’ll take Genji.”_

_Mayu arched an eyebrow with a small smirk, she nodded her head slightly and lifted a hand. She gestured to where the restrooms were located and watched as her two sons lifted themselves from the wooden chairs they sat on, and had watched them walk their way to the back of the restaurant._

_“I’ll wait for you outside, Genji,” Hanzo’s voice was moderate, he kept it level but also at a reassuring matter. Genji gave him a curt nod before he went through the doorway of the males restroom. Hanzo stayed by the side of the hallway, keeping way of anyone who needs access to the bathrooms just like Genji needed. Hanzo could remember the painting that sat at the end of the hallway, it’s colors contrasting from the dull shades of brown that was surrounding it. The light of the window just behind Hanzo shone inside, leaking all throughout the restaurant._

_Hanzo looked at his own shadow, he slightly shifted his own arms and legs and watched the shadow mimic each movement. He softly giggled to himself, he continued for only a short longer till his own shadow began to grow. He watched as what used to be his shadow, become much, much bigger than he, himself. Hanzo tilted his head sideways, waiting for the shadow to mimic his movement, only this time, it did not._

_This time, it did not mimic his movement._

_Three days had passed, and he was nowhere in sight. Mayu sobbed into her hands with the thought of her son never returning, plaguing her mind. Sojiro by her side trying to comfort her. Genji sitting not too far away, wondering where his older brother could be. Hanzo disappeared, not a single sign of him anywhere, no ransom being made, only the worst could be thought of._

That was 12 years ago, he’s perfectly fine now, or so it’s what he chooses to believe. The memories of disappearing came back to him in fragments, when he returned home looking just as fine as the day he vanished, he was too scared to tell _anyone_ of what had happened to him. The memories of the dark room, the ropes that tied him, and the much bigger man that hovered over him. Too much had happened, far too much that repeating any of it, left him traumatized

4 years ago, something similar had happened. But, he was out trying to retreat his younger and wilder brother from the clubs that he ventured to every night. Ever since the kidnapping when he was 7, he stayed inside the castle at all matters, declining any offer given that related to the world that lay just beyond the castle gates. Genji was out longer than he should have been that night, and it was Hanzo’s job to retrieve him, no matter how much he was reluctant. 

The shadows of the alleyways lurked onto the lifeless street that surrounded the area, soft noises of people murmuring inside of their homes and the sounds of people laughing away in the bars drinking away with their friends, it had filled the empty place. Making it seem like a ghost town, that used to have living people walking around and about.

Hanzo was found inside one of the alleyways, clothes torn, face beat up, and unconscious. 

He once again refused to explain anything that occurred that night, his mind was filled with nightmares of the traumatizing events that had happened, so much it plagued him. He became afraid of the world outside, he was scared of other people other than his own family, he believed that everyone outside of the gates were out to harm him, and so far it has proven to be correct. 

Hanzo’s grip on the flowers became tighter and tighter, why out of every other moment of his life, did _now_ of all times decided to confess that his permission of happiness were invaild. The cold air continued to press onto his cool skin, the tears that rolled down his cheek fell off his chin and landed on the enclosed bouquet, flourishing on the petal of the hygendra. The texture of the flowers was reminiscent of a perennial. 

Genji was walking down the hallway, he was returning from the sword practice that he and Hanzo were both at, but Hanzo was ordered to finish work that he had ignored. Genji pondered why his brother had slowed his pace of work, and he only has himself to blame. Hanzo’s fear and dread had increased more than any other part of him had, the last true smile that Genji had seen Hanzo make was when they were only children-- and that was also the day he disappeared. 

Genji strode down the hallway silently, he kept his pace at normal trying to practice to keep the sound of his footsteps moderate or so trying to keep them noiseless. But why would that be needed? He has snuck out of the castle multiple times before, and had returned absolutely noiseless too. There was no need for him to carry on the practices of silentness if he had so accomplished it already. He does it to maintain Hanzo’s contentment, he wishes to repair his brother of all the broken shards that the world has tattered. But nothing has worked so far, there are still multiple pieces that are left unrepaired, and he has only fixed a quarter of the full mirror or even less, he has lost his measurement by now.

Genji had begun to hear the noises of one sobbing, he went alert instantly. He lowered himself slightly, he paced his way down the hallway maintaining his normal speed, the moonlight had poured in from the timber framework that had separated the hallway from the outside balcony. As Genji had slowly turned around the corner to identify the director of the worrying cries, he had almost jumped at the sight that he had witnessed. His eyes had widened, he took a quick moment to gather himself before opening his mouth before asking one of an obviously already answered question.

“B-Brother! Oh-- _Tawagoto--_ are you alright?!” Genji’s voice was shaky, he sounded unsure of his own words. He hovered his hands over his brother, he kept rocking back and forth, unsure of what to truly do, “N..n-no-” Hanzo clamped his own mouth shut, the sounds of his own sobs had drowned out any physical words. 

Genji wrapped both arms around Hanzo, he cradled him just like Hanzo had cradled the flowers that sat in his arms. Genji began to quickly repeat the words, ‘it’ll be ok, it’ll be ok,’ over and over, and said too quickly to understand their true meanings. Genji had pulled away after what felt like a few minutes and had looked his brother straight in the eyes and had furrowed his brows, “Who had done this to you? I’ll find them and I’ll kill them!” 

Before Hanzo could truly answer that, Genji began to shake his head furiously, “Nonono, don’t answer that, I’ll go and get you some help-” 

“No!” 

Genji stared at his brother, he looked at him with bewilderment, his eyes were tainted with pain at being told such. Hanzo stared back at his sibling, he slightly shook his head. He placed his hands onto Genji’s wrists and lowered them, then he himself had wrapped Genji in his arms and had croaked out, “Moth--mother already went..” Genji slowly nodded, he broke free from his brother’s arms and sat against the wall next to him. 

Hanzo had also returned to the position he took before Genji’s arrival, only this time, his sobbing had decreased for the moment. Only a few sharp breaths and quick sniffs. Genji’s head had slightly bobbed up and down, his eyes idling searching the floor as his mind processes a few things, “What...what had happened to you?”

Hanzo’s eyes focused on Genji, his eyes stared back at him, searching his face for any secrets that he may have kept hidden. Hanzo clicked his jaw, “I-if--don’t tell father or anyone for that matter, if I were to explain the person behind--this..” he gestured a hand down towards the still dark red cuts that littered Hanzo’s shins. Genji almost lifted a hand to help cover the disturbing gashes, but stopped himself and had nodded to Hanzo’s bargainings. 

“After father had confronted us---me… about my lack of work. I walked down the hallway, heading back to my room to finish what I left unfinished. I-I had noticed that mother was here, looking over the stars.. And that I had raised my voice up, to ask her about what she was doing here. She had questioned me on what I was doing here as well instead of doing my work-- and when I told her..” he slowed down, his eyes began to water. Genji slowly raised his eyebrows, he placed a hand onto his brother’s shoulder and gave a nod of reassurance. 

“Anger had taken her betterment, she began to shout at me, multiple things that I cannot fully recite.. And within her rage, she had pulled her blade on me, and had only continued the slurs… and well--” he gestured another hand down. Genji slowly knitted his eyebrows together, Hanzo had puffed out a blow of air before wrapping his own arms around himself. Staring vacantly at the ground in front of him. 

_What kind of monster would do such?_ Multiple things had stormed through Genji’s mind, his own mother doing this to her own son? Who-- _why_ ? His own mother was blinded by rage that she had nearly murdered her own child, was she even a mother in the first place? Wouldn’t her inner instincts take better hold of her and prevent her from doing _any_ type of harm?

The true power of emotion, isn’t it.

Their father had told tales of such, what would happen if you allowed emotion to take control over you.

And it appears that the tales may have proven to be true.

How troubling indeed, that pure rage had blinded her of her pity towards her own child.

A _pity_. 

  
  


The hospital was quiet, the soft murmurs of people walking down the hallways, the small whirrings of the elevators. Hanzo’s breath was slow and steady, Genji’s eyes were fixated onto his brother. He watched as Hanzo’s chest slowly had risen and had slowly fallen, the same pattern, slowly, on repeat. The clock that sat not so far, had clicked, and clicked, and clicked. The same sound, the same pattern, being repeated, and repeated. 

A blur, the sounds that surrounded him sounded muffled, things seemed choked out. He slowly lifted his eyelids, the bright light that illuminated the room had blinded Hanzo’s eyes. Hanzo lifted an arm over his face, the usual silk of his _uwagi_ had not seemed to fall onto his face, so many questions he had, where am I again? Why do things feel so different? He heard people talking next to him, but everything around him seemed blinded and obscure.

A figure soon hovered over Hanzo, the figure was speaking, but it was not words that Hanzo could make out. The figure shifted and turned around, more words were spoken that he could no longer make out, too many things seemed muffled, too many more things seemingly forlorn. When will things just black out? The figure never seemed to be moving anytime soon, it was completely fixated on Hanzo, and he wished that it would just leave him be. But almost as if something heard his inner thoughts, another figure soon came around and had dragged the first one out of Hanzo’s view.

_Good._

Hanzo allowed the arm that covered his face from the blinding light rest, he stared up to the ceiling allowing his eyes to finally adjust to the unknown room that he was laid in. As things began to clear up in his vision, he slowly shifted his head around. His eyes trailing everything they could catch on, and that they finally rested on something once they took catch onto what sat just next to him.

_Genji and Mother._

When Hanzo laid eyes onto the duo, Genji had instantly brightened at the sight. His mother gave a small sign of relief and had given her child a small wave to greet his awakening. But Hanzo only stared, he did not know how to react, the motion made the duo give concerned looks onto each other. Genji straightened his back, he spoke slowly, and smoothly.

“Hanzo, do you know who we are?” Hanzo took longer than he should have needed to respond, and right before he could, he watched as the two took on panicked looks and began whispering to each other. He quickly shook his head and had cut into their scared whispers, “Yes, yes. I know who you both are.” 

They both gave sighs of relief, “Thank god! Don’t do that to us,” Genji all but chuckled. Hanzo gave an awkward smile in return, he lifted himself up into a sitting position. “So..where am I?” 

Genji stared daggers towards his mother, he gave a soft growl towards her, she only returned an raised eyebrow, “You--you are in the hospital, Hanzo,” she answered briefly. Genji gave a soft but frustrated scoff and shook his head. “Do you know what happened to you? Brother?” when the question was directed towards Hanzo, his voice had softened, and he became careful with each word spoken. Hanzo’s face was blank for a moment, he slowly nodded as an answer.

Genji gave an awkward smile, “You might be a bit confused, but-- something had happened..back home where we had to take you here,” Genji had trouble speaking the words, he was digging around to make sure he chose the correct ones to say. His mother’s face had saddened, she slightly swayed back and forth in her seat, perhaps, she was hoping, or begging, that Genji does not know of her crime. Genji on the other hand, was equally hoping, or even threatening, to keep what was asked of him alive. In Hanzo’s eyes, they were both doing terribly, but in mother and Genji’s eyes? They seemed to be right on the edge.

Hanzo had ignored the small murmurs that the duo exchanged, he glanced down at himself, looking at what was changed. Other than clothing, something stood out far too well to be ignored. 

_A jambeaux._

Hanzo stared at the greaves, this was obviously something new, something he is unused to, and another new thing to deal with. He tucked one of his legs closer to him, he examined the new pieces of armor that seemed to now--be a part of him.

Genji noticed Hanzo’s mishaps, “Oh-- well. If you want a simple and clear explanation, let’s say...those are gonna be your new legs! Yup! New--prosthetics..” Genji attempted to lighten the mood up, he attempted to make his brother think otherwise of the jambeaux, but it had ended _poorly_. Hanzo’s face had softened, as much as the new jambeaux may do nothing to Hanzo’s training, it’s still a handful to endorse. The new prosthetics do mean that Hanzo’s legs are gone, but they also tell the body that he is still fully capable of walking, which leaves his brain confused. Which means he’ll take a bit to adapt to the prosthetics.

“Hanzo, this-- is a different type of prosthetics. Your legs are still very much there, but. Now, there is a layer of latex covering over the organic tissue of your shins, there are multiple pieces of carbon fiber, and layers of nanotech, with the outside layers being non-crystalline metal. These jambeaux are a type of prototype, which just fully means, if a piece of the greaves were to break, then all of the layers of carbon fiber, nanotech, and the non-crystalline metal will fall apart. But we were assured that there are also multiple layers of non-crystalline metal, making the jambeaux very difficult to be riven.” 

Hanzo nodded in understanding of his mother’s words, he gets to be one of the first people to ever try something like this. Even when the word prototype came along, it was at most impressing how the engineers behind the greaves knew exactly what their problem could be, and are just testing to see if it truly is their problem. Hanzo felt honored for being capable of testing out a project for these engineers. 

“Well, other than that. Here, brother. We brought you some flowers,” Genji lifted up a small bouquet into Hanzo’s vision. He gave a small smile, and had said a soft ‘thank you,’ before taking the bouquet into his own hands. The room fell silent, Genji and Mayu kept their eyes onto Hanzo, while he entered his own world looking at the creative bunch of flowers. A wonder truly, some things may cease to ever change. But, it’s miraculous upon how false that can be. 

A true wonder. 

People always say that things may never change.

But, others always seem to prove them wrong.

It’s an endless loop, really.

And a loop is almost impossible to break out of.

  
  
  



	2. Preparation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Days tick by, the mission coming closer, and painfully, some training that isn't wanted to be done.

Not much light entered his room. For whatever reason, instead of doing what is asked, McCree lays on top of the messy barrage of his bed sheets, blanket, and his clothing. He was supposed to be packing for the upcoming mission to Hanamura, but with being told that there was a week before flying out, his brain figured he could pack another time, and the rest of him did not complain. As much as he disliked most missions, he learns to brighten up on things once he remembers that what is occurring to him was dumb luck and that he shouldn’t complain. Sometimes, he can remember the wind blowing onto his face when he and the rest of the gang would ride on top of trains and or just sit around a night campfire and let the night breeze swoon over them all. 

But, he can also remember the night of the raid. Only now he can ponder, if what happened is a good thing or not. He can only debate further, and further. 

Though, the longer he spends here in Blackwatch, just a little more do things open up. Yes, at first when he arrived he indeed was a complete ass. But, that had not stopped any of the main commanders, they only continued on with him, trying to mend up the already mangled boy. As much as the strike commander began to forget about the previous gang member, or had decided he had just enough, Blackwatch’s commander sure did not forget, he sure did have enough, but he sure did not give up. McCree could remember the pure frustration and disgust he had when the Blackwatch commander refused to give him up, McCree wanted nothing to do with Overwatch nonetheless Blackwatch. But yet, here he was, and at the current moment, he couldn’t ask for anything more.

Indeed it was that Overwatch was capable of burning away the old gang member to the point that it was beyond recognition. Now, instead, they have themselves a reformed gang member here in their ranks, willing to do  _ almost _ anything. He was only a clueless boy back then, now, he knows much more, and somewhat knows how things would’ve ended up if the raid never happened. Instead of the clueless, rude, and overgoing members of deadlock. He instead, now has a strict but can be friendly commander, a healer which was something very much needed back in the gang, multiple members who understands his reluctant behavior, but best of all, he now has himself a very undergoing friend. Correct it is, she can be very painful, both mentally and physically, she can be caring at times, and sometimes it’s just the slap of reality that McCree needs.

McCree startled at the sound of knocking on his door, he groaned out in annoyance before shifting around. The metal door shooshed open, revealing the one who had disrupted McCree’s nap, or so, it’s how he puts it, who knows what he really was doing.

“Hiya Jess. Ooh.. I’m sorry, did I wake you up from your nap?”

Qauora...

There wasn’t a time McCree could recall Qauora ever wearing some normal clothing, she had always worn that black glass looking suit. The first time they had met, he was given a thorough definition of the suit she wore, but he never paid attention to it, he was too much of an ass to pay any attention. One may assume her as an Talon assassin from afar, but if they were close enough they would see that she was not one in fact. But they are very similar, they both are darkly colored, but it ever so happens that both Blackwatch and Talon share around the same colors. They both also share the glass-like blades that sit on both arms, and they both seem to share the interesting skating like movement. The only difference that you could fully make out was how the helmets were different, an Talon assassin’s helmet would completely cover the head, while Qauora’s almost does the same, hers is still different. One thing that is rather difficult to dismiss, is how Qauora’s blades are retractable. One can only assume that she is a reformed Talon assassin, but there doesn’t seem to be an answer for the resemblance any time soon.

McCree shook his head, “Naw, not really.” Qauora gave a small chuckle, “Okay, so.. What were you doing?” 

McCree stared blank faced for a quick moment, “I--I was--doin’ somethin’.”

“And what is that, ‘something’?”

“Somethin’ personal, in my ‘opinion.”

“Personal? Like what?”

“Do ya really have t’be diggin’ ‘round in my own little personal bubble?” 

“Last time I checked, it’s almost impossible to have one.” 

McCree gave a heavy puff of air, Qauora stared through the blackglass of her visors, she kept her head high in confidence, she kept the smirk that McCree can never seem to take a break from. 

McCree rolled his shoulders, “I guess, I was takin’ a nap,” Qauora placed her hands onto her hips, “I thought you weren’t taking one?” 

McCree can only frown, the sight made Qauora laugh in victory. Though, it’s a victory to an unknown game.

“Anyways, enough of the teasing, came to let you know that we gotta start upping our game when it comes to training. Direct orders from Reyes. If you remembered about our upcoming mission, then well, you would have known,” she shrugged at the last word. Even if she said that she was done with the mocking, she still would’ve figured another way to continue it. That was one of the types of mental pain she could inflict, it would be best to not learn what the physical one could be.

McCree nodded in vain, “Yeah, thanks fer the reminder, I guess.”

“No problem.”

McCree nodded once again, he watched as Qauora began her way down the hall, it was always interesting upon how the glass-like skates weren’t as loud as you would have thought, but better it be how it doesn’t rip your ears into shreds if it were to be like glass. That sound would be unbearable, just as if you were scratching a blackboard. Maybe, McCree should thank Torbjörn for that.

He’ll take note of that, he’ll do so later.

McCree turned to face the inners of his room, maybe he should also take note of when he should clean his room up, that may very well also be critical. As if it mattered anyways, he wasn’t sharing his room with anyone, not anytime soon at least. McCree stroked a hand through his messy brown hair, maybe, instead of later, and maybe, instead of sooner, he should clean his room after training. He gave a small huff, indeed he will do such. McCree quickly paced his way through his room, grabbed his signature belt, placed peacekeeper into its holster, and place the one and only hat onto his head. He’ll put the chest armor on once he’s in the training range, he knows he’ll have some physical training, especially if he has to worry about assassins on the upcoming mission.

Who would've thought that as soon as McCree went through the open doors of the training facility, he would be instantly ambushed by his friend. A common thing really, it happens all the time, and McCree for whatever his valid reason may be, never decides to go through any of the smaller doors, or throw a flashbang up, nonetheless Qauora is always in the same spot when he comes through. Maybe it’s for the fun of it, or perhaps it’s just become an everyday thing that he no longer feels phased by it. If it were truly the case, then maybe he wouldn’t be shouting at the now running away assassin.

Maybe he’ll think about it, maybe he shall take another way in. 

The sounds of Qauora’s skates clatter throughout the thin air, the sound of her movement being echoed. She knew more than well enough upon how to be quiet, but she's allowing her skates to make noise, and that it only means that there are other people in the practice range. McCree let out an annoyed puff of an air, it seems that any other time he is training there is absolutely no one in the training facility, but, when it comes to him training upon upcoming missions, there’s always a big group of people in the range. He began to hear people in the distance, talking, shouting, and laughing. 

He’s had just enough of it.

It’s always annoying when he cannot have the range completely to himself for upcoming employment, when it comes to important training, he’d rather have pure peace around him. Though, it shall always be a question upon why, if it concludes the fact that a real mission would not be purified silence, then why train in one? To maintain focus, if he truly were out on the battlefield, if he heard enemy foot-steps, he would be allowed to shoot them just like that. But, he’s surrounded by allies, and shooting them drop dead would cost them a rough rack.

Maybe he should learn to lighten up, it’s something Captain Amari would tell him all the time. Instead, maybe, he should use the big source of people around him to his advantage. He cannot recall exactly what’s going to occur on the mission, Reye’s explanation all seems like a blur to McCree. Perhaps McCree should pay more attention to basic things, and pay more attention to things around and use them to its full potential. Now that he thinks about it, doing it now all seems like work to do, and that’s a ton of work. The group of people that were making their way into the training facility were only a few corridors down from McCree, and they were doing an aim practice. 

_ Great, extra noise. _

As much as he tried, he can only think negatively towards the extra people in the area. 

The best way to think the opposite would be going into contact with them, and McCree was in no mood for chit-chat. 

Truly, too bad for him then.

“Heya y’all! What level of training are y’all doing?” The words that came out sounded rough, sounded as if he were forced to be there. Which isn’t overly wrong, he was forcing himself to talk to them.

“Huh--Oh! McCree? Ah, we’re just doing level 5,” one of the three answered. After the voice of Agent Valler the other two brought their attention towards the painfully smiling cowboy. One of them raised their eyebrow, “McCree? I would’ve never thought that we would run into you in the practice range.”

“Ya woulda been surprised ‘bout how common it can really be, Tirc,” as much as McCree is winging this conversion, he’s holding up well enough to not raise any alarms. The last agent raised his voice, “Don’t you have an upcoming mission?” 

“Oh yeah! A mission with the bossman, quite high ranked, but then again, you are a special one, McCree.”

He smiled slightly at the words, “Thank you kindly, but yeah. I do.”

“That’s cool! That explains why both you and Qauora are walking around and about, don’t you think so, Krindle?” The one so called agent Tirc nudged the man next to him, who seems to be getting slightly more annoyed. Agent Krindle responded quite quickly, but it wasn’t the answer Tirc was looking for, “Why are we using our codenames?”

“If we are out training, then we should learn to call each other by these names, just in case,” Agent Valler shrugged. 

“Yeah, but my codename is just plain stupid.” 

“No it isn’t, I think Krindle is a great name.”

“Easy for you to say, you have a great codename, Valler.”

“Alright both of y’all, that’s enough, it’s only a codename, better than it being yer actual name,” McCree quickly butted into the two’s short argument. 

“Sure, I guess so,” Krindle’s words had lowered. A moment of silence had stormed over them, when McCree opened his mouth to say something the sounds of sharp glass had filled the place. Shaper than usual, faster than usual, and much louder than usual.

_ What is she-- _

No time whatsoever. He had no time to prepare. She came speeding alongside the walls and had tackled McCree down breathlessly. The sounds of her skates ringed loudly throughout the entire training facility, when the sound became sharp to the agent’s ears, they knew she was coming for one of them. It’s a common thing with Qauora, if there’s multiple people in the facility at once, she will target someone and tackle them straight to the ground. 

But, if she knows where her friend could be, she’s targeting him without a doubt. Sometimes, McCree wonders why she finds such pride and joy in knocking him out, but from what he remembers, Reyes had asked her specifically to keep McCree on his toes. She, without a doubt, hasn’t forgotten such a request. 

“Ah-- Why me?! Ya always come for me! Oh-- y’know what, fuck you!” Qauora’s smirk turned into a slight gasp. She placed a hand over her chest.

“Aw--what? No, fuck you!” she darted straight back. As much as she tried to keep her voice moderate, she couldn’t help the surpassing chuckles that were crawling up her throat. McCree rolled his eyes, “Naw! Stop laughing ya dirtbag!”   
  
“Wow, for a cowboy I expected better insults.”

“Why? Ya want me to call you a shitface? That's even worse.” 

“Hm, yeah. Agreed.”

Before McCree could continue, Agent Valler quickly interrupted and had pointed something that would have been obvious, out, “McCree! Quick the chit-chat, why don’t you pay attention to yourself? You know Qauora is Blackwatch’s best assassin, right??”

“What-” McCree cut himself off, and quickly did what Agent Valler had said. Every Time he’s with Qauora, he always forgets what role she owns in Blackwatch. Which is a true question really, how does the fact that she is the top assassin, always passes over McCree’s head. Upon inspection, he found that Qauora had either purposely, or mistakenly, gave a small slit into his arm. McCree raised his head and stared at Qauora with furrowed brows. 

“Did ya really just cut me?” The question without a doubt was targeted at Qauora, but then again. Who else would it be directed to?

“Uh--whoops! I must’ve done it by accident,” she gave a slight shrug. McCree slightly shook his head.

“Uh-huh, sure. Guess I’m heading to Angie.. Why don’t we keep med-kits out here?”

“Good question,” Tirc answered vaguely.

McCree stood up from the sitting position he took, Qauora has tackled McCree down a number of times. But, surprisingly, this was the first time that he actually bleed in one of her random attacks. The question of why there were no first-aid kits out in the facility will stay unknown to McCree for now, but now that he has noticed the small wound on him, it without no hesitation decided to begin stinging just like a papercut. But, much sharper, since the suspect could very well be Qauora’s skates, those red glass like skates look sharper than a freshly sharpened sword. The look they carried doesn’t compare to the sound, a single look at them and you would’ve thought that they would sound like nails on a blackboard. But in Qauora’s hands, they are almost a perfect quiet, unless she chooses to make noise with them, then it’s another story. 

A painful story, the sound is truly unbearable. 

As McCree makes his way closer to the doors of Angela’s office, the hallways that surround him are surprisingly quiet. For being a top notch base, the place is intriguely quiet, the sounds of crates being transported across these grey floors always leave behind a familiar but unknown noise. The agents that walk through these vacant floors, doing their own little thing, the ventilation system continually blowing air, and the murmurs of Overwatch agents in a variety of different rooms. Nothing out of normal, this type of air singles ordinary life on base. Overwatch turns completely into something else when there's a code red problem, or an intruder alert, or when an all hands on deck mission comes up. But, those are rare, rarer than anything else, rarer then seeing Commander Morrison and Commander Reyes in the same room, or so it is how McCree would place it. The last time anything of sorts happened, was when a big fight broke out in the mess-hall, multiple people running throughout the halls, both the strike commanders came out of their little offices to try and stop at least half of the people inside of the mess-hall who were really drawing blood out of each other. After such a remark, it was a suggestion to transfer all those agents to be a part of Blackwatch, but Commander Reyes insisted that they stay as normal Overwatch agents. And so, they have, and still are.

He was only a few steps away from the door, McCree kept looking over the cut that sat on his arm. He examined his arm, and the rest of his body for anything else, Qauora is always a mystery. But, as he neared closer and closer to the doors of Angela’s office, he heard the distinct voice of two women. Both, angry, and both yelling.

“You’ve never mentioned anything of the sorts!” He identified Angela.   
  


“I am certain that I have.” The other was Moira, the witch as he puts it. He leaned onto the door ever so slightly.

“There is no such thing as mythical creatures! You have truly gone mad!” Angela sounded mad, more angry McCree has ever heard her.

“Madness isn’t what I’d call it! It’d be known as experimenting!” Moira’s mad too, McCree only pondered what these two were shouting about. She only continued, “The discovery I’ve found could be groundbreaking! You’ve helped me get this far, why not finish?”

“Because, what you told me sounded right, and I followed thinking the lie you’ve told me. I want no more of it!” He heard a heavy huff come from Angela, he soon heard the sound of footsteps approaching the door. He didn’t have much time to react, the door slid open as soon as the sound of footsteps came into his ears. 

He stared at the person that stood just before him, Moira stared back. She shot him a glare before pushing forward, and walking into the open hallways. His eyes tracked Moira as she trekked down the hallway, surprisingly, her footsteps did not apply and that she was upset, none of her did. A small gasp from behind him is what broke his train of thought, he swiftly turned inside the doors of Angela’s office, to see that she herself was looking at him shocked. He lifted a hand and waved slowly, wearing an awkward smile. 

“Jesse! How long have you been there?” each word sounded forced or croaked out. She seems desperate to hope that McCree didn’t hear anything at all, but wouldn’t you know by now that these types of things always mean that someone has been listening the entire time? You would guess yes, but the answer shall be no.   
  
McCree shook his head slightly, shaking his aura, “I didn’t hear much, promise,” and he meant it with all honesty. But, it was something Angela couldn’t fully believe, “How much did you hear, then?” 

“All I heard was somethin’ ‘bout lies or some sorta beasts-- that’s really all I heard, I mean it, Angie!” he pleaded, he really was telling the truth. But, Angela can’t fully trust him, it’s a huge risk right now to even attempt anything related to her and Moira’s fuss. Both, her and McCree were at a risk, Angela could have some troubles related to her medical school, and McCree-- what was she even talking about, Jesse would never see the light of day if she were really being honest. She shook her head, “Fine. What brings you here anyways?”

“Ambush. Wasn’t any first aid-kits out in the training facility,” He pointed a finger behind him, motioning the direction of the training facade. Angela took a slow breath, “Of course there isn’t, you can’t get hurt out there he says. No matter what me and captain Amari says, Jack only sees it as a waste of time, right-- come inside Jesse, sit on the bed or the chair, it does not matter.” She seems tired, maybe some of both her’s and captain Amari’s sayings were trying to get commander Morrsion to acknowledge Qauora and her random attacks out of spite and orders. But, he seems to not have time for it, or that he doesn’t care much about the agents in Blackwatch. McCree entered the small but sustainable room, it was pretty much what you expected. There was a bed over in the middle of the room, and a simple desk with computers right next to the door, with some counters and cabinets joining as well, and on the other side of the room was a door indicating a bathroom. 

“Give me a moment,” McCree could hear that Angela was shuffling through a variety of different items, each giving off a different sound. He remembers that he was once laid down on the bed that he currently sat on, Commander Reyes was right, McCree was an idiot that day. Couldn’t learn to back down, and because of his adolescence he had cost them the mission. McCree watched as Angela shuffled through a few boxes of paper, “Hmm, oh! Here we go,” her voice broke the noises of shuffling. She lifted herself up from the floor, she gave a short wave of the papers before turning back around and opening an overhead cabinet. 

“What’s the papers for?” McCree’s eyes idled the papers on the counter top. “To figure out if it was Qauora’s blades that cut you, or if it was her skates,” she answered briefly. 

“What’s the difference?” He watched as Angela turned back around with a roll of bandages in her hand. “Qauora’s blades are laced in a special type of poison, they can make you both sleepy and weak. Especially if you either have multiple cuts, or a single cut that’s been on your skin for awhile,” she twirled a finger, making the gesture of asking an extended question. “It’s only been roughly 10 minutes, I--I think,” he scratched the bottom of his chin. Angela arched an eyebrow, she shook her head slightly. She picked up the papers on the counter-top, she looked up to McCree’s arm and back down to the papers. “Judging by how thin the cut on your arm is, it seems you were hit with Qauora’s skates instead! Luckily for you, even though it probably stings a whole bunch,” McCree nodded his head to that, it very much did. She walked up to him, and sat down, she began to roll the bandages around his arm.

“So--uh..what--were ya two talkin’ bout earlier?” Angela paused, she glared at him. “It was a little dispute about your guy’s upcoming mission, that is all,” she responded slowly. McCree in return, gave a slow nod. A moment of silence sprouted for a short moment, only breaking when McCree continued asking questions, “I heard you guy's talk bout’ mythical creatures, and Moira possibly lying? Can I-”

“No, I will not be telling you anything more,” Angela had cut in. He gave a curt nod, he turned away from her. Mythical Creatures? Like unicorns, griffins? What exactly would Moira ever feel like placing her attention towards something as senseless as that. The fact that she could also be possibly lying to everyone, riddles McCree, she already seemed eerie at first, but this just pushes things over the top. He is debating at the current moment, should he tell any of the commanders about this, or should he leave that to Angela? But, that depends if Angela would even tell anyone, he did hear correctly that it was something related to their mission, she most likely would tell the commanders herself, right? He does not know, so he’s stuck, pondering which choice to take. Maybe he should ask her, but she could just push any of his questions related to the incident away, for now, he has no choice but to sit near these sickly windows. His thoughts being cut off by Angela giving a few pats on his arm, indicating that she was finished.

McCree propped himself off of the bed, a slight breeze of air brushing pass him as Angela quickly walks past him to place both the bandages and papers away. While slightly rubbing the bandages with the metal of his prosthetic arm, McCree opens his mouth to say one last thing before walking out, “Much obliged.” She looked up to him, giving a weary smile as he walks out of the room.

He doesn’t fully know Angela. He doesn’t know what her thoughts are, he doesn’t know what type of things she knows, he  _ doesn’t _ know what type of secrets she has. So, how can he know that she’ll walk straight towards commander Morrison, or captain Amari, or even commander Reyes of all people, about whatever drama she and Moira have at their current moment. He  _ doesn’t _ , so he'd better be safe than sorry, even if Angela doesn’t want anyone to know, someone of a higher rank needs to know about the high possibility of Moira lying to everyone from the beginning, or the possibility of being a traitor. Who cares to think what Angela believes at the moment, especially with  _ this _ situation. As he walks down the hallway, he can hear the faint murmurs of multiple agents talking about, moving about, doing whatever about. He can even somewhat hear the crystalling sound of Qauora’s blades moving on and about somewhere close by, possibly skating close to the windows and Athena’s sensors, making sure it’s known that it’s her out there, and not some intruder. 

McCree paused in front of a hallway entrance, where the corridors had split into two separate hallways of their own. He stared at what stood between the hallways conjoined location, both commander Morrison and commander Reyes were there arguing about something that could of possibly been stupid of the sorts. They had not seemed to not notice the cowboy watching them, to make his presence become known, he began to slowly walk towards them making his spurs jingle quite loud. It seemed to have worked well enough, as one of the commanders turned their head over towards him, pausing whatever they could have been saying almost instantly, and once their eyes were on the cowboy, he began to walk at a more normal pace lifting a hand up for a short wave. Reyes arched an eyebrow, Morrison bringing his arms into a crossed formation, “McCree. What are you doing?” Reyes was the one to ask the question, as Morrison stood still and gave his cold stone stare pierce straight through McCree.

McCree answered quickly, “Here fer some questions, real quick-- did by chance, Angie come to any one of y’all?” The commanders exchanged looks towards one another.

“No, she hasn’t. How come?” Morrison had replied, Reyes only adding a short nod to Morrison’s answer. McCree twirled a finger, “I overheard some conflict between Angie and Moira.” 

They both exchanged looks again, “What type of conflict?” This time Reyes spoke. McCree blinked, “ I feel like the main course of conflict that I ever so thought would be important to tell y’all bout’ it, would be the fact that Moira could’ve been a liar to all of us from the very beginning, and that she could be a possible traitor.”

Morrison’s eyes had widened slightly, he opened his mouth to speak but was cut off by Reyes, “You do not know what exactly they could’ve been talking about, I also do not believe that Moira would ever do such.” Morrison glared at him from the corner of his eyes.

McCree frowned, “I do know what their topic of argument was related to,  _ our _ upcoming mission to Hanamura.” Reyes slightly jolted back at that response, Morrison gave a smug look of approval, he opened his mouth to speak, “I am not sure about Reyes over here--” he pointed a finger over towards his left. “But, I do know that I’ll look into it, thank you for notifying  _ us _ , Jesse.” McCree gave a small smile, a nod following soon after. Reyes had seemed to shift, he seemed to be a little distorted, out of failure? Perhaps.

Maybe McCree should look into the reaction Reyes had when he found out than he did know about Angela’s and Moira’s cause of conflict. He only now wonders how much he would have heard if he moved faster to get to Angie’s office, maybe he would have heard more about the type of thing that Moira and Angela had, more of perhaps, what Moira could have possibly lied about. He can only hope he made the right choice, of by coincidence, telling both the strike commander of Blackwatch and Overwatch, about the little dispute about the two complete opposites of healers.

But for now, McCree should pay attention to the type of mission they have upcoming. Stealth isn’t something he’s the best with, especially with the entire mission surrounding the complete criteria of stealth. Feels like the deadlock raid all over again, but this time, they actually have themselves a target to become a part of their ranks.

McCree should still keep an eye out for both Moira and Reyes, something’s up, and there’s something that they know that no one else does.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh hi! I've finally got chapter 2 done! I hope you enjoyed it, this chapter was mostly used to introduce other characters and for you to get a small taste of them. Especially with my own character known as Qauora! :D
> 
> If you don't know already, Genji was never killed in this world, which meant he never became apart of blackwatch, so instead of Genji being that "murder machine" I would guess-- We have a former Talon assassin taking his place! ::DD
> 
> Also thanks to everyone whose read my story so far! And I also thank you for the kudos as well! I'll be making chapter 3 soon, and hopefully, making it longer than this one. >:]

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first ever fic that I decided to write, so I am sorry if anything sounds off in anyway. I had this story idea stuck in my head for the past 4-5 months, and I had really wanted to make it so. Here we are! I hope you enjoy what I had made, it might take me awhile to get the next chapter out, please bare with me on that, I have school work and it's been a wild ride.


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